If April showers bring May flowers, what do May showers bring? Floods.

The winter clothes were packed away and I planted basil in the outdoor planter outside the kitchen recently: Two acts meant to send a message to Mother Nature that I am through with this cold, obnoxious spring and ready for her milder, warmer twin sister to enter the scene.

   Other parts of this country are experiencing higher than average temperatures and even heat waves by Erie, Pennsylvania standards. We have yet to consistently top 50 degrees. And on the days we do, the infernal wet weather continues to rain on our parade, so to speak.

    As far as I am concerned, this all has to stop. Right now. Like a tantrumming child, I am stomping my feet. And if that doesn't work, well, I just might have to get tough and start some fist-balled, threats. Come on out, spring, you wimp. I dare you.

    When all else falls, time to give in and give up. I guess I just have to step back and reassess. It's only rain and cold, after all, not tornadoes and tsunamis. Sometimes I just need a little perspective in order to regain my gratitude. Spring always does come and like most things, it doesn't conform to my wishes or bend to my control. At least there is some green in all this gray.

   Check out my Erie Times-News blog.

And the temps, they go down and down

So I leave to go downstate for one day and what happens? The temperature on Lake Erie soars to 80 degrees yesterday. Of course! Luckily, we got back to town before nightfall and the weather shift took us so off guard, we decided to do a summertime thing: wash the car.
   Well, it's just another one of Spring's little teasers. The weather savvy amongst us know that jumping 40 degrees in one day is a cruel joke. We will be back to the 40s in a hours--today's oncoming storm will see to that.
   As the rain pours down the windows and the outer world looks like the more familiar version of spring that we are all accustomed to, my spirits remain high with the lingering brush of balmy breezes, the prickly crunch of new grass under my feet (yes, I took my shoes off) and the sun on my face.
   Yes, that one day, those few hours of summer erased the months of wet, cold, dare I say, harsh winter. And I am reminded of the verse from William Wordsworth poem.

Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, 
of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind.